


Lessons in Waltzing, Fencing and Dressing Up Nicely

by misura



Category: Stardust (2007)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Crossdressing, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The girl, clearly, is the smart one.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Waltzing, Fencing and Dressing Up Nicely

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Humphrey/Shakespeare, Humphrey finds out about Shakespeare's cross-dressing. (preferably happy fluff)_

The girl, clearly, is the smart one.

"Please, sir, we don't possess anything of value. Won't you simply let us go?"

"You play your cards right, sweetheart, and I just might." Smart being a relative term, obviously, given that firstly, she's making eyes at him just a little bit and secondly, they're a couple hundred yards up, and she's clearly no star, for all that her young man might have told her differently.

"Don't you dare put your hands on her!"

The boy, clearly, is the pretty one. Of such things, great partnerships are made.

Also, on occasion, poor marriages.

"All right, into the brig with them."

 

The girl's name, it turns out, is Victoria - and she's _that_ Victoria, of course she is; coincidences like this can't just not happen, not in Stormhold (or over it, strictly speaking; for all that the Lightning Marshalls may disagree, everyone on the _Carpantine_ knows they're not breaking the law so much as ah _avoiding_ it. Along with its representatives, it goes without saying).

The boy's name is Humphrey.

The mannequin's name is Septimus. (Possibly, it's a bit petty, but Shakespeare tells himself they're always finding him back again so really, it's kind of like a little tribute.)

Stage, set and go.

 

"You - you - _pirate_!" Humphrey says and he's got a nice voice, really, loud and carrying and with not even a hint of a squeak in it. He's also a very poor actor, alas.

"Try 'blackguard'. 'Villain'. 'Heartless monster', if you really want to pull out all the stops. Just not 'bastard', all right? I'm a bit touchy about my mother."

"Blackguard!" Well. At least he takes directions well - predictably, perhaps, considering the lovely Victoria, who probably would have made a much more convincing lone surviving prisoner.

Sometimes though, a man wants to drag a pretty young man off to his cabin to ravish - or at least pretend he does. A nice fantasy to warm his cockles tonight, when he's tucked up in bed, all by himself, with a good book about a world where a witch is just an old woman who is always making soup.

"Villain!"

It's good to know Tristan worked things out in the end, and doubly good to find out he hasn't broken anyone's heart in the process. Happiest ending for everyone this way, looks like.

"Heartless monster!"

"All right now, that's enough of that." Ravishing is off the table, clearly, but that doesn't mean he can't have _any_ fun at all. There's a fancy suit hanging in his closet that's going to look _fabulous_ on someone like Humphrey. Make it hard to keep his hands to himself, but a lifetime of practice should help.

 

The suit does look _tres_ fabulous.

 

"First lesson in fencing," Shakespeare says. "Don't pick on people weaker than you are."

Humphrey has the grace to blush. Victoria grins. Shakespeare is grateful women don't fence. Some of them would be uncomfortably good at it.

 

"First lesson in waltzing. Don't step on my toes."

Victoria chuckles. Humphrey scowls. "It's not my fault. You keep trying to lead. Sir."

"So I do." It's too easy to get distracted, when he's this close. Tristan wasn't a problem; Tristan was taken, and in love, and a young man on a quest. "My apologies."

 

"You know, Captain - "

Three weeks to play the host to a pair of young people nearly as charming as the previous pair he's played host to, for all that they're far less obvious about being head over heels for one another.

Still, newly-weds and all. Doesn't take a genius to figure out _that_ one. "What?" In England, people don't get married unless they're in love. Shakespeare's read the books; he knows how it works. Sure, there might be some obstacles, some talk about finding 'a suitable match', even, but in the end, it's always love.

"You're kind of staring."

Wall must be a magical place, indeed, to have produced people like Tristan and Humphrey. And Victoria, possibly, although there's nothing new about a beautiful young woman with a fairly high opinion of herself and the brains and kindness to convince other people that opinion isn't unjustified.

"I can stare if I want to." The crew know now, after all.

"Oh, so it's all look but don't touch, eh?"

 

It's _relaxing_ , putting on a dress. Exciting, too, in a way, but mostly, it's a get-away from the little things in life that can get a man down. With a record playing in the background, it's easy to imagine, just for a moment, that he's in London or Paris or _Ipswich_ , even.

The crew are under strict instructions to disturb him in case of an emergency, or even some small problem with a bunch of soldiers they can easily handle, no sweat, captain.

"Captain Shakespeare?"

Next time, clearly, he should also include 'guests wandering where they shouldn't' under the header of 'not an emergency, but disturb me for it anyway'.

"Yes?" Chin up, straight back - he's been blessed with a firm but fair First Mate and he knows it.

"Is that a - " Humphrey stares. Fair enough, in a way; there's been plenty of that going on the other way these past days. Humphrey's never going to be the natural fencer Tristan is, or be able to set a woman aglow simply by dancing with her. "You're wearing a dress."

"Indeed I am."

"I - " Humphrey licks his lips, looking nervous. Like a man who's kissed a frog and now discovers it's turned into a prince instead of a princess, Shakespeare thinks, resignedly. "Do you think I could try that, too?"

 _Oh._ "This one? Wrong size, I think. Plus, this shade of blue really doesn't bring out your eyes. I think I've got one here, though, that should fit you very nicely."

It does, too.

 

The crew don't drop dead, which is good. They don't turn away, either; it's more that they do that thing where they pretend they're busy with other things, nice weather, isn't it, all the while keeping an eye on things. Just in case.

Sometimes, being the captain simply means you're the one everyone thinks they're entitled to take care of and worry about and jump in front of, once the lightning starts striking. (He's never forgotten his goggles even once, let alone lost them, but he knows whom they all carry a spare set for.)

"I suppose that's one way of settling who will lead," Victoria says, looking not nearly as surprised as Shakespeare had expected, considering.

Then again, perhaps he should have considered a bit more deeply.

"Victoria - " Humphrey hasn't, clearly. "I can explain."

"There was a suit I saw. Second row on the left, third closet."

Probably, Shakespeare reflects, he's going to regret this.

Then again, possibly not. "Please. Feel free."

A moment's silence, before, inevitably, someone asks: "You know, Captain, I've been wondering ... "

 

It stays a one-time thing, mostly. Happily.

Shakespeare doesn't mind sharing, honestly he doesn't - they're his crew, after all. If some of his dresses get a few tears in them, a bit of damage, a stain here or there, then that's fine. They're _dresses_. They're for _dressing up_ in.

A bit like the perfectly respectable suits they've all worn to the wedding. 

"I always planned on becoming a doctor," Humphrey says, looking _tres_ fabulous in his _tres_ fabulous suit. (Shakespeare's always got an eye for these things.) "Or a lawyer. An accountant, perhaps."

"Just goes to show, it's never too late to get an honest job."

"Arr."


End file.
